


mon chou, mon chou, mon chou

by megamegaturtle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Competition, F/M, Fluff, Post-War, Stealing cabbages, Theft, druna, romantic sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:09:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28058961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megamegaturtle/pseuds/megamegaturtle
Summary: Mon chou:1) A French term of endearment meaning honey or sweetie; literally translates to "my cabbage"2) The time Draco helps Luna steal cabbages from her neighbors.(For the Judged by the Cover flash comp in the Dumbledore's Armada Discord)
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 38
Kudos: 43
Collections: Judged by the Cover





	mon chou, mon chou, mon chou

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [ravenslight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenslight/pseuds/ravenslight) in the [judgedbythecover](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/judgedbythecover) collection. 



> Hello, this is my first Druna! This rare-pair fic is the for the Judged by the Cover flash comp in the Dumbledore's Aramada Discord. My fic is based on the book cover for Cabbages and Crime as seen below. We were allowed between 500 to 2000 words! Enjoy!
> 
> Thanks so much to @shamione for the beta!
> 
> **Awards Won: Host's Favorite**  
> 

Magic thrives in the midnight hours when the world sleeps. Magic is at work, too, when Draco Malfoy knocks on Luna Lovegood’s door. He lingers on her doorstep, nerves fluttering under his skin like both butterflies and bats. Draco longs for fresh air that is not within Wiltshire. He longs for company that sees through him and what he could be rather than his past mistakes and follies.

Draco knocks on the door, the oak firm under his knuckles. The knob twists as if Luna had been waiting on the other side for him. She greets him with the same hospitality she would if she’d provided an invitation.

“I am torn between saying ‘good evening’ or ‘good night’ at this hour,” she muses with a smile. “But, hello, Draco.” Her voice catches between sleeping and awake.

He clears his throat before leaning on her door frame. “Fancy a walkabout, Lovegood?”

She nods and grabs her coat, granting his wish like a creature of the night. Luna leads him down a path only her feet have traveled.

The forest and moon witness them together, standing shoulder to shoulder with all the world’s creatures as their eyes. Down the path they wander, Luna’s hum filling the silence as she carries a basket at her side. They stroll passed a farmhouse before discovering a vegetable patch guarded by Britain’s loneliness scarecrow.

Luna does not fear scarecrows and enters to greet her old friend. 

There’s a hum in the garden and a dance in her step as she inspects the perfect cabbage. She kneels in damp soil and unsheathes her blade. She peels back the outer leaves with tenderness, pats the head, and kisses its forehead like a baby.

“One cabbage, two cabbages, where can I find you? _Mon chou, mon chou, mon chou_ ,” she sings, off-key, but sweet.

Draco watches from the edge of the cabbage patch, his dragonhide shoes free of any mud. Her footprints lay heavy in the soil, weaving between pumpkin vines and corn stalks, looping around large, midnight-colored aubergines.

The night stills, but watches with bated breath.

The moon swallows Luna, soaking her in silver. She wears the moonbeams like a cape. Bright blue eyes find his across the darkness, and he can see the smile in them. Eyes are windows to the soul, but Luna’s are only labyrinths.

Draco can’t find any scorn or malice in her mazes. 

“Cabbages don’t pick themselves, Draco,” she says, her voice drifting across the garden as if she speaks for it. Luna's voice echoes from all corners and looms in his ears.

The soil squelches under his shoes, the sound reminiscent of spongy bodies and bloody puddles. But Luna beckons again and cares not what he remembers. Draco is at her side in fewer steps than he’d assumed, heart hammering out of sync as she serenades the cabbages.

“Three cabbages, four cabbages, oh how’d I’d like to know you. _Mon chou, mon chou, mon chou._ ”

She saws the cabbage’s stem halfway before she snaps it free and the ringing crack reverberates in the air. She does not look at him as she moves onto the next one. It is a dance, the way she dips into a curtsy, her hand fanning out to her side as if she grabs the skirt of a ballgown. She sinks her knees into the soil again, unbothered by the moisture that sticks the fabric to her skin.

Draco sighs and charms his trousers so they don’t get wet. “Why are we stealing cabbages?”

Luna stops ruffling the leaves and gives him a sidelong glance. “Stealing implies we’re taking something that doesn’t belong to us.”

“Well, yes. The family that lives here might think we’re stealing their vegetables.”

She shrugs and returns back to her work. “The fairies that live here said we could take whatever we need. They were here first.”

“And you always listen to fairies?”

“Yes. It’d be stupid to cross a fairy. They know things we don’t know. Wizards? We know just as much as them. More even.”

“Because fairies?”

She gazes at him, her head tilted to the side. “Oh, no, Draco,” she states simply, “it’s because you and I are intelligent.”

Draco nods but says nothing. Dirt packs under his fingernails. A rocky piece of soil pinches his skin. He pulls back the cabbage leaves in search of a head that’s smooth and green.

He watches her out of the corner of his eye as Luna walks further into the garden. She squats with some herbs and takes a sprig of mint. She holds it up to night sky, almost as if it is an offering to the moon who watches from her palace amongst the stars.

Draco isn’t sure when he came to her side again, but he was not called to be. He lowers himself beside her and plucks the herb from her hand, placing the sprig of mint behind her ear like a flower. Luna blinks with surprise, her hand gently touching the leaves as if rose petals.

“Thank you,” she whispers, wearing a faint smile. “This will help me keep cool.”

“Are you feeling warm?”

He tries to rest a hand on her forehead, but Luna jumps up and away, leaving Draco kneeling in the mud alone.

Her gaze is to the sky, her arms overhead as if she’s stretching. “Sometimes, I feel very warm when I’m with you. You take all the coolness when you occlude.”

The stare of the forest weighs heavily on Draco’s shoulders, the expectations haunting him from the shadows.

“All set?” he asks.

Luna fastens the buttons of her coat. “As a bone will ever be.”

The forest’s stare lingers as they walk along to Luna’s cottage. She still wears her spring of mint as if a treasured jewel. Her hum and their footsteps the only noise in the silence. 

She invites him inside as if he has always belonged inside her cottage in the dead of night. The moonlight pushes him forward and closes the door as he crosses the threshold. Together, they place their harvest on her modest table. A warm fire crackles in the corner.

They scrub their hands in more silence at her sink. A cauldron bubbles on her counter with a nondescript potion. It smells like springtime and fresh lemon despite that autumn is to be winter next month.

“You have not slept,” Luna says.

“You steal vegetables from your neighbors,” he replies.

“Only wizard neighbors. Fairies gave permission.”

Draco swallows. “Do I—can I—” he says, but then stops.

He closes his eyes and inhales. The warmth of the cottage settles into his bones. Luna taps the counter in a steady rhythm that soothes his heart. He opens his eyes and gives her a deprecating smile.

“What is the unknown?”

Her lips purse together, and she rests a hand on her chin. She does not blink when she answers, the universe wide in her eyes. “The absence of known, but it has its own siren call.”

He laughs. “What does that even mean?”

Her gaze softens. She steps closer. The moonlight filters through her window, and outlines of enchanted wings rest on her back. “It means that I forgive you and I want you,” she says. “It means your unknown is known.”

Draco stops breathing for a second, but then confidence awakens in his chest. “Does that mean I can steal a kiss _, mon petit chou?_ ” 

She chuckles quietly. “Stealing implies it’s not yours.”

In the moments that don’t add up, Draco crosses the arm’s length between them, kissing Luna on the mouth. She smells of mint and soil, but her touch is fire on his skin as she cups his face. He buries his fingers in her fine hair and their bodies meld together.

“Sleep with me,” she commands, and he obeys.

Like her muddy footprints, their clothes trail them as they make their way to her bed. He trips trying to get out of his trousers, and she is there to catch him with calm yet sturdy arms. They laugh as they fall into bed, her lips peppering his face with kisses. They are only vested in their undergarments.

He settles into the plush comforter, the scent of lavender encompassing them both. She leans over him, her hair a silky curtain that tickles his bare shoulder. Luna traces the soft skin under his eye. “I’m so happy that you’re here.”

He grasps her hand and kisses her palm. “You’re too good for me, Luna.”

“I am only as good as one’s idea of morality. To me, we are both good. I wouldn’t invite you in otherwise.”

Adoration wells in Draco’s chest, and he pushes himself up to kiss Luna again. He takes his time and savors each moment. There is no rush or need for frantic passion as his hands trail down the curve of her spine. He unclasps her bra and relishes in the feeling of her chest against his.

She giggles as he lightly glides his hand across the dip of her waist, but then he tugs her knickers off without a care in the world.

“Perfect,” he whispers with reverence. “Absolutely perfect.”

Luna does not hide her body and preens under the praise. Her fingers trace his forearm as she spreads her legs open. Her arousal perfumes the air.

“Touch me, please.”

In the soft glow from the moon, Draco teases her warm slit. His fingers slide inside her with ease, and there is nowhere more he’d rather be. He kisses her neck as he pumps his fingers inside of her, enjoying the way she moans. Her hand finds her clit, and together they bring her pleasure. She presses hard onto herself, her fingers moving in precise circles she’s traced a thousand times.

Draco matches her pace, the tension in the room mirrored in the locking bones of her body. Luna fucks herself on his fingers, and their hands bump into each other’s. She stops breathing, her back curving off the mattress. She smiles to the moon hiding behind the roof, her free hand intertwined with Draco’s. Her hips jerk, the tension of her body snapping as she rocks into his hand in a slowing descent. Her content sigh as she opens her eyes reminds him of a gentle breeze at the seashore.

With a breathy laugh, she reaches for him and palms his cock through his briefs. “Hi.”

He kisses her chest, sucks on the spot above her heart until he’s left a mark. Her fingers find his hair as he shimmies out of his pants. With a lightness that only comes with hearing Luna’s breath in his ears, Draco allows the warmth to encircle him as he enters her. He feels worthy of this moment, feels that he belongs to the witch beneath him.

Luna crosses her legs behind him and forces him to bottom out inside of her. She giggles as he groans into her neck, her hands gripping his shoulders to draw him closer. He rocks into her slowly, taking his time as the concept disappears. There is only now, only the feeling of Luna under him, meeting him stroke for stroke.

She touches herself again, blunt nails smooth against his cock as he fucks her. She squeezes tight, and Draco wonders if these are how constellations are made. Supposes the stars above come from moments where two people join as one. Her breath hitches again, her back curving. Her nipples skim across his skin.

“Draco,” she whispers, a ghost of a kiss on his shoulder.

Draco holds her tighter, finds her mouth to swallow her moans, steals her breath because she’s given it to him. He comes with her lips cool across his, her tongue soft and saliva sweet as she orgasms. He can feel her heart beating hard as he cuddles into her chest, finding home and purpose where his future has no crime, except for stolen cabbages.


End file.
